System Restore Point

the day I got my room back I sat in the tope chair, now grumpy and lumpy, with the Bible open. Isaiah. a heavy blue ball monkey thumped onto the roof and shimmied head first down the lichen covered drainpipe. inside - Korki - still covered said "out. out!" in that deep gravel copy of me. the tenant had left a clock behind - angled 5 degrees (clockwise) : the second hand chased ticks and tocks loudly. its gotta go. the floor once checquered with ali metal and grey alternating tiles was a mess - covered here and there with off-cut rugs that curled at the corners in a trippy way. alien remnants of friendly strangers... Isaiah 53:5 says "He was wounded for our rebellious acts. He was crushed for our sins. He was punished so that we could have peace, and we received healing from his wounds." This tormented room - a haven from tormentors wielding venomous words and weaving crushing cloaks. This  open book - living words of hope and promise. the peace that resulted from his wounds. the King James version says: "...and with his stripes we are healed" - no promise there - a mere statement of actuality. I love the way the living words transcend time - freeze time. "we are healed"

I need to stop adding to His bruises to experience the peace, the wholeness, the completeness. How is that possible when instead of seeing Christ's bearing in those around me - I see only that of His tormentors. shadows.

do angels fly in torrential rain?

more bouncing furry feet on the roof tiles. (I'm gonna have to check if any have cracks sometime). becoming difficult to pray. I've been told that silence is needed to hear God's answers - that may be true but sometimes I'm sure He speaks to me in the clamouring clatter. from the valley, waves of a drumbeat tease my ears - the drums have called all thru the night - maybe they have something to celebrate - maybe a goat is dead - blood spilt for misgivings and confusion. flickering shadows.

but what of the Lamb? He lives now in my heart - once counted with sinners, His blood spent for eternal redemption mine. Hope... and then blessed silence ('cept for the clock-that-has-to-go). I carry my rosary out onto the patio. flattened grey clouds above the sea - the prophecy of cold to come... and gaze in solid prayer through the lifting shadows.